The Senju Chronicles: Recalibrated!
by freewolf17
Summary: Tsunade gets a redo of her life the result of her choice molds her grandchildren's lives and they must do what is best for the world, not always themselves. This is a rewrite of the original Senju Chronicles, there will be differences both major and minor
1. Chapter 1

**_Book One: Tsunade's Chance- Vivify_**

**Author's Notes:**

Summary of Book One Tsunade's Chance: Sent decades into her past Tsunade's adult conscience is placed within her six-year-old mind and body. Confused and unsure of what is actually happening to her and with her memories of her possibly past life at her side she now guides a younger self through the life she has already lived, feeling that it is her duty to relive her life and rectify all that went wrong. Though... No one said she couldn't have her own fun along the way...

USING SUFFIXES

Obaa-san (grandmother)  
>Okaa-san (mother)<br>Oba-san (aunt)  
>JijiSofu/Jii/Ojii-san (grandfather)  
>Otou-san (father)<br>Oji-san (uncle)

Nii-san (brother)  
>Onii-san (older brother)<br>Ototo-san (little brother)  
>Itoko-san (cousin)<br>Nee-san (sister)  
>Onee-san (older sister)<br>Imotou-san (little sister)

-Teme (bastard)  
>-buso (bitch)<br>-dobe (idiot)  
>-baka (idiot)<p>

* * *

><p>"Tsunade..! Don't go! Tsunade, wake-up! Please! <em>Tsunade!<em>" A strong yet ever fading voice called from a distance away, growing more and more muffled as the pain and sorrow increased with each syllable spoken. I knew the voice's owner but could not place the name or face to it. The more I concentrated on the voice the farther it got yet the louder it became yet morphed in such a strange way. As the voice warped from sorrow to loving laughter it felt like my soul was being torn from my body, though, somehow, it was not a painful experience.

The voice contorted drastically with time, becoming older, more mature, more angry- No, annoyed? The two voices erratically intertwined then unraveled once more into two separate entities, each time the younger of the two seemed to fade from both my ears and memory. At last when there was only one voice remaining. "Senju Tsunade, get out of bed, sapling!"

_Sapling.._._?_ I knew it could never be. Only one person I ever knew used that term. Just one and he had died so many years ago. My eyelids pressed together tightly to ward away the memories of yesteryears, but it was all in vain. The memories flooded back to me as if they happening now, it felt so real...

My world was dark behind my eyelids, closed from sheer refusal to crawl out of bed and 'Greet the morning sun with my branches stretched high so that the sapling may grow,' as Sofu-sama used to say nearly every morning of my pre-Genin life. My covers were ripped off to expose me to the morning chill. Despite knowing what came next I never learned; I would curl up into a ball and buried my face deeper into the pillow in retaliation. What I loathed then but later looked back on lovingly happened not a moment later; Sofu-sama used his Kekkei Genkai. A tendril would sprout from my wooden headboard, coiled itself around my ankle and hoisted me into the air; though he never knew I would peak out over the pillow to watch the accursed thing do so.

"Go away," I would half moan half snap groggily, always muffled from the pillow. Despite the fact that I never saw his face I knew his expression simply said 'As you wish Hime,' when the vine would drop me faster than a Shinobi would an activated explosive tag. I bounced three times exactly on the bed upon release before I sat up and rubbed my eyes as if I would cry and shouted, "Obaaaaaaaaaa-saamaaaaa! Sofu-sama's being a meanie again!"

"Oh? Is that so?" Her firm yet loving voice would float from up the hall where she would still be getting ready, fixing her graying red hair into its ornate fashion with clips and pins. Sofu-sama's face would pale in mock fear as the _**click, click, click**_ of her low heals moved swiftly and elegantly down the hall. She would waltz into the room, still clipping seal tags into her twin buns.

But this time… I never spoke… Not a word. He didn't drop me the way he used to. I never bounced or called for my grandmother to rush to my aid. Her voice never drifted down the hallway and into my room, making my grandfather's face look as if it had been drawn on rice paper. _I don't understand… I always told him to go away, it was never anything else… Instead… Instead…_

A tendril sprouted from my wooden headboard, coiled itself around my ankle and hoisted me into the air my stomach lurched at the sudden movement and my brain rattled around in my skull as I wailed in misery. My intestines had jerked violently, seemingly folding over each other like enemy cadavers would in a slaughter; acid burned my throat as vomit expelled itself from my body, soiling bed sheets that had been clean and soft moments ago.

It was scarce and sparse in my memory as to the times my grandfather raised his voice, either in anger or concern making his exclamation of, '_Tsunade-chan!_' ten times more mortifying than anything I can care to remember.

With the speed that graced any and all Shinobi worth their spit, I was cradled in Sofu-sama's arms not seconds before I went limp as if I was a victim of fatigue. Though my mind was clouded with pain, worse than any hangover I have ever had, I sensed my obaa-sama's unique Chakra miraculously appear in the room, no doubt via Whirlpool Shunshin. The aging woman moved with such a swift silence that death's eyes would turn green with envy.

I moaned in agony as she took me from my grandfather as gently as she would any of her patients, but it made no difference. I felt like a tiny figurine that had broken lose inside a snow globe, the smallest of movements sent me in whirl as if someone had shaken the glass orb. Obaa-sama's surprisingly soft and gentle hand touched my forehead so lightly and so briefly I was sure I had imagined it until she spoke, "She's burning up, Hashi…" Her voice grew fainter and fainter with each word until nothing… Nothing but darkness… And silence…

It seemed the moment the darkness had engulfed me my blurred vision came slowly back into focus. As I looked around I duly and dully became aware of my surroundings. The room was dim, lit only by candle light. I was lying in a bed much larger and softer than my own. I shifted ever so slightly taking note of just how soft it was, too soft. Softer than a cloud… So soft that it could only belong to an elder… My grandparents bed…

My head still dizzy with fever, turned to bury my nose in the silk sheets. With a deep, calming inhale their scent flooded my senses. They never smelt like your typical old person, joint ointments, dead skin, moldy clothes, decaying papers and books… No, it was always a fresh smell, my grandmother smelling of her peppermint tea and Sunagakure's Desert Flower perfume; though I never understood why she felt so attached to such an odd but pleasant scent of a foreign land; my grandfather like fresh paper from the never-ending supply of paperwork that hardly ever seemed to pile up, and a spring forest, the buds bursting into a forever full bloom.

My eyes opened once more to only meet the earthy toned, illustrious bedspread. Rolling over, I clutched the deep, rich brown sheets like a lifeline; with one hand I traced the embroidered branches on the comforter. Again, I closed my eyes remembering the exact pattern, leaf for leaf. The intricately sewn blanket swayed in the wind like flag on a black background that served no purpose but to show the single thought that ran through my mind. The large maple tree stitched in with such care onto a sky blue background, a cloudless sky. The green grass that looked as though if you leapt you would land on the soft grass sitting at the base of the sweet maple outlined in golden thread, rather than bounce on the cover to let it fold and embrace you like water.

Voices jolted me from my reverie that teetered on the edge of a nap's dream. Each word spoken felt like a knock on the door of my consciousness, reminding me that this could all be nothing more than a dream despite how much I willed and wished it to be reality._ Please… Please, let this be as it seems to be… Please…_

"Inohana, you cannot go in there," Obaa-sama's voice sounded from the other side of the closed, sliding door with firmness and authority. "She is ill, needs rest and could very well be contagious, whatever she has."

"What do you mean I cannot go in there you senile old woman? I am her _mother_! And have more rights to her than you do!" an angry and disrespectful snap that could only belong to my mother spat in reply.

"That maybe so, Inohana, but none the less…" My grandmother's voice became dangerously quite. Or was it quiet and dangerous? It was often hard to tell the difference with her yet somehow, hearing her voice like this… It made me feel safe. "This is beyond a mother's care; this must be left to someone who is trained to take care of the ill and injured. Are you a medical-nin or a civilian doctor? No. No, you are not! You have no training to do anything of the kind, a decent cook yes, but undoubtedly not a doctor," It was clearer than ice that my grandmother would not give ground but my mother just kept at it despite the fact that the verdict of the argument had already been cast in iron and written in stone.

"Well, if it is a doctor she needs then I shall take her into the Village and take her to the hospital," my mother stated stubbornly, her rage grew with every syllable. "And when I get there with her-"

"I will take command of _my_ hospital; put _my_ granddaughter into _my_ care, just as she would be _here_. Inohana, my dear, you are wasting your breath, your time, your effort as well as mine. And, right now, I must say, mine is more valuable than yours!" Obaa-sama's voice had begun to rise in volume and irritation. "Now, Inohana, I would appreciate it if you would stay out from under my feet and go occupy yourself somewhere else and leave the child to me," I could hear my mother stutter and stammer in fury, at a loss for words, as the door slid open and vanish as it closed.

"Temper, temper that woman… Inohana… Well, those Yamanaka got the 'boar' part right but they sure messed up with the 'flower' part… The day that woman… Ooh…With an uncontrollable rage like hers it is a good thing she is n- Shinobi- Wound up dead-…" Obaa-sama's mutters and mumbles of annoyance were hardly audible as she approached. A heavy sigh filled the air as I head the gentle _**click, click, click**_ of my grandmother's footsteps. "In the Shinobi world those that let their anger fly are the first to die. Remember that well, Tsunade."

My eyes flew open in shock that she knew I was awake and had heard every word of the heated conversation that had taken place between mother-and-daughter-in-law. A simple chuckle escaped behind my grandmother's closed lips before she spoke, "You have your mother's, and I must admit the Uzumaki, temper. A dangerous double dose... Be wary of it, child. It is not your friend," I felt the bed sink and the springs creak as she sat down on the king sized bed beside me. "Now, how are you feeling, Tsunade?"

I took a deep breath as if inhaling the rare and unusual notes of concern and compassion in the aged woman's voice. In all her years of pain and torment, sourced from seeing her comrades die before her eyes and under her hands that worked so desperately to save them, murdering for the sake of what she loved, decades of being the pariah of the elder council for what she was, the Kyuubi's vessel. Any emotion having to do with love did not easily pass into her voice. And I had always savored every word when she allowed love and approval to be known. "Dizzy… My head hurts… My stomach's in knots… It…" I moaned holding my hand on the side of my hot cheek. "It feels like the world's worst hangover…"

I swear I could almost feel her stiffen at these words. "And you would know what a hangover feels like _how_ exactly?" Her voice was terse and tense as she brought a cup of warm tea to my lips. Too weak to take it from her I parted my lips so she could tilt it back. The warm aroma of herbs swirled around me as the gracious gulp of the brew danced on my taste buds; it flooded my mind with comfort and an idea of how to avoid trouble.

I spoke as if I were walking on glass. "I overheard Sofu-sama and Tobi Oji-san talking about something called a hangover… And this suuure feels like one," I stressed the word 'sure' to sound as childlike as possible. Though I still did not know if what was happening was reality or a figment of my imagination the last thing I needed was Obaa-sama's temper snapping.

A weighted silence hung over us for what seemed like hours before she spoke once more. "Well, I'll have to talk to those two about conducting such conversations in front of a child. And before you try to defend them, child, they are both plenty capable Shinobi and should be able to tell when a child is eavesdropping on them," Her tone was firm and final as she placed the empty china on the nightstand with a firm _**thump**_; any attempt I would make to defend either of them would wind up being my downfall, more so than my temper would.

As I bit back sigh she placed her wrist across my forehead with a slight frown. "Well, your fever is nearly gone," Her voice held nothing professionalism as she began to pull away. I don't know where I got the nerve or courage to do it, but I grabbed her wrist and pressed it to my forehead. Her apical pulse against my warm skin felt calm and soothing, a constant, steady beat. I wished for it to never leave, for her to sit by my side forever. When she had died-

"Oh, Tsunade… You must grow up, child. Had you not have gotten sick you would have become a Kunoichi today," I made a small, fragile noise that was a cross between acknowledging that I had heard her gentle scold and a protest that she should try and pull away again. My bleary brown eyes looked up at her pleadingly, not wanting her to go. Her pupil-less teal eyes softened at my gaze, though often aloof and conservative she was still my grandmother. A tired and jaded breath left her body as I felt her take me into her arms and pull me to her chest. "Though you are still a child… I say it enough, don't I? Hmph…"

That 'hmph' was the closest thing to a laugh I can ever recall her doing in my childhood. As the years passed she became more affectionate, never really laughing until Nawaki was a toddler. For the first time in decades, I remembered just how much I envied him, how there were moments that I had _hated_ him. Now thinking it I realized just how horrible it sounded, to envy my beloved and departed baby brother over something as trivial as that.

My grandmother's voice brought me back to what I so desperately hoped was the present. "You still need some rest Tsunade," Every word she spoke demanded that there be no contradiction or opposition. I pressed myself to her soft bosom, I was not in the mood nor did I wish to oppose her demand. I felt her warm breath on the top of my head as she squeezed me gently in her embrace. "I suppose I could stay until you fall asleep. Rest is the quickest way to getting better. The sooner you are well, the sooner you get to be a Kunoichi."

"But… But I- a-aaahm a Kunoichi…" I yawned and protested as I fought the embrace of sleep and the darkness that came with it.

"Not yet you are not. You may have passed the Academy, but you have not gotten your Hitai-ate yet. No, perhaps tomorrow if you are feeling well enough… Tobirama held off the announcement of squads today just for you. Don't be stubborn now, Tsunade. Sleep. Sleep…" Just before I lost consciousness I could have sworn I felt her place a kiss on my forehead. But that cannot be, she hardly ever kissed me; only when I was going through the most difficult decision of my life did she kiss me. "Sleep, child. Dream of becoming strong and proud, strong enough to protect all you love and proud of who you are," If she said anything after that I did not hear, just as she commanded I slept and dreamt of just that, being proud and strong. Just like her.

When I opened my eyes once more blinding light of the Sun greeted my soar eyes. I blinked groggily in the late dawn to observe where I was just as I had earlier. The walls were _pink_. The bedspread was _pink_. The headboard was painted _pink_. As I looked at the floor the throw rug was _pink_. Everything was the blinding color of _pink. _It was my room, my old _childhood_ bedroom. The bedroom my mother had decorated before I was even born and had hardly changed since. Every Kami dammed blessed thing was _pink_! I _hate_ pink. While I may disagree with many things my grandmother says about my mom I will agree with one thing, my mom is a bit of an air head…

Dully I placed my right hand on my left should and pinched as hard as I could. I bit my lip as I continued to squeeze down; I broke skin and drew blood. When pain did not wake me from whatever Genjutsu or dream I was trapped in I sprang out of bed and slipped on the floral _pink_ throw rug before I ran for the full body mirror across the room. The _pink_ framed full body mirror. Even the glass had a pink tint to it. I watched my pupils dilate and felt my heart seize from a blend of raw emotions at what stood before me. It was myself, as a child. I couldn't stop it from happening. A scream escaped my throat and echoed throughout the entire mansion.

My eyes never left the surely deceiving glass as I heard several cries and shouts of, '_Tsunade!_' sound in response. Though I never heard them coming, I recognized their Chakra a mile off. Each Chakra matched perfectly and with just as much vivacity as their faces did, forever engraved in my mind. A generally calm and graceful teal, Mito Obaa-sama her graying red hair ornately styled, eyes nearly the same shade as her Chakra, always smooth like silk, wrinkles of worry deeply etched into her light complexion. A lush and firm green, Hashirma Sofu-sama his hair long and ever black even as age began to take its hold on him, his eyes a much darker shade of brown than my own and skin ever tan. Blue, vibrant and lively and flowed like water, Granduncle Tobirama his hair had been white and his eyes red since birth, pale skin, all the markings of an albino, his red facial markings painted proudly upon his face granted upon him by the Inuzuka Clan for rescuing the infant heir from some circumstance that had never been explained to me. Finally, my father's…

His was nowhere near as strong or vivid as those of the elder generation but still there and not one I like to remember. It had always been dull and dim as if he were depressed. A grayish-brown that never made sense to me, he had always seemed so happy whenever I saw him, his brown eyes would sparkle as he called me his 'Hime', his spiky, mousey brown hair in a warrior's wolf tail. I cannot recall anything else…_ Daddy…_

The door slid open with a _**bang!**_ as the four Shinobi burst into the room. Though their reflection could not be seen in the mirror nor did I look their way I knew they had kunai drawn, ready to spill blood if needed. My gaze was still fixated on the pink tinted glass. Several sighs of relief and annoyance filled the recently tense air.

"Well, if she is well enough to let out a scream like that over a serious case of bed head then I'd say she is more than well enough to claim her Hitai-ate and take her place amongst Konoha's ranks," My grandmother's voice was calm yet concise as she turned to leave, her heals clicking softly down the hallway swiftly followed by Tobirama Oji-san's howls of relieved laughter.

"Tsunade I know you hair is a mess but you don't have to scream," My grandfather said without a doubt shaking his head as he muttered something about women and their hair. Their rapid appearance and swift leave hardly fazed me, all I could feel was numbness radiating from where I had pinched myself, swarming the rest of my body as well as my mind.

It was like looking into a window of time. The rounded face of a child stared back at me, expression a mix between panic and curiosity. My eyes were large and round, not only with emotion but the naturalness that graced a child. At long last I broke the staring contest with my reflection and studied myself. My body was underdeveloped, the usual mountains of breast were gone; my chest flatter than an enemy squished beneath an Akimichi's signature Human Bullet Tank. The curves of womanhood had vanished, hips now narrow. My stomach was no longer flat; though well toned it was pushed outward. Like a child's. To be quite honest I was almost a stranger to myself.

Out of nothing other than sheer inquisitiveness I dared myself to look at my hair. I cringed. Obaa-sama's statement of 'serious case of bed head' was the understatement of the century. My hair stuck out at all angles, tangled in knots, my part shot to hell… It took everything I had to not scream a second time.

With shaking hands I reached for the brush on the desk beside the mirror. Like everything else in the room… It was pink. And it was the only pink thing in the room I even liked, even the _bristles _on the damn thing were pink. The metal brush painted pink with golden ornate, swirling patterns etched deep in the back and handle of the brush never failed me once in the thirty-nine years I had owned it. Eventually though my debts had grown too great and I had to pawn it, getting cheated out of one of my few childhood possessions that I held dear.

My mind raced a faster than a Kusagakure steed as it galloped across the plains, through grass taller than the Hokage Tower and depending on the variety, sharper than a samurai's blade. _What's going on? None of this can be true! None of this can be real! Where are Shizune and Sakura and Ino…? Where is that crazed former student of Orochimaru begging for another dangerous mission? Where are Koharu and Homura to nag me about something or another that I could really care less about? __No stop freaking out! A Shinobi never panics!__ Yeah, well… I'm not one yet apparently! __That doesn't matter! Stop making excuses!_

The war in my head continued until I heard my mother shout, "Tsunade, breakfast!" from the kitchen. My heart leapt and pounded in my chest. Though she may be an airhead she was still my mother. I haven't seen my mom since I was twelve! Or will be twelve… Oh forget it! Even if it all was a big deception I came to the shocking realization that I did not care.

I raced down the halls of my childhood home, lined with table holding objects of high value some glittering silver and other just simple crafts the children of the clan had made over the years. It was all precious, all valuable and irreplaceable. The elaborate woodwork seemed to blend into nothing but smears of background. Portraits and landscapes whizzed by me in a blur of color, it made it all seem more like a dream than I would care to admit. As I heard voices of my family float from the kitchen brought me to a sudden halt.

"You had no right to put Tsunade back in her bedroom, Inohana!" Obaa-sama's voice flowed deadly like a toxin in the bloodstream. I closed my eyes and envisioned her sitting at the table eating a simple bowl of boiled rice delicately with the expertly crafted and carved chopsticks my grandfather had given her years ago. How often I had stared at them in wonder. Such a simple gift yet it meant so much to her, more then she would ever admit.

"I am her _mother_! Of course I had the right!" I winced as my mother's voice snapped back at the older woman. "She-"

"Was too ill to move last night and that very well could have made things worse," My grandmother's words were final. Rather, they were supposed to be. Where my mother got the courage to speak out against her I'll never know.

"Well, it didn't. You saw her yourself this morning. She's better now and it's thanks to me. Putting her in that beautiful bedroom made her feel safe," My mother's pompous voice and hubris had reduced Mito Obaa-sama to an enraged stutter. "You see!" she claimed, no doubt pointing a finger at her, the other hand on her hip with a spatula, wooden spoon or cooking chopsticks in hand. "Even you cannot argue, Mito. I made my baby feel better, not you!"

"You arrogant woman," I _knew_ my grandmother had shaken her head at the blond woman before she continued to speak. "I gave her medicine last night. A special Uzumaki herbal blend that has not failed yet lest the illness be too far along that only a miracle could save the damned. Though it will normally take a few days to- I'm not finished yet!" My grandmother's voice was like a whip, stopping my mother's comeback prematurely, though her voice has not raised a decibel. "It was most likely her pure stubbornness that has her up, moving and well so soon. The human mind is a powerful thing, Inohana, you of all people should know that."

The sound of a teacup being slammed on the hard wood table split the air like a cracking whip. Though I had not seen it I knew my mother had done it out of sheer spite. I could just envision my grandmother as she adroitly placed her chopsticks on the table with a firm and dominating _**tap-!**_ before she gingerly grasped the teacup. A small ghost of a smile would sit itself conceitedly as she raised the cup to her lips and inhaled deeply through the nose to get a whiff of her precious peppermint tea. Just before she took a sip I could have sworn I heard her mutter, "It was certainly not that _horrendous _pink room of hers."

The sound of shattering porcelain filled the air just as the slamming cup had just a moment ago. I knew for a fact that my mother had broken a plate or bowl. "Inohana, dear… Was that-?"

"Kyou, just be _quiet_!" My mother hissed as she interrupted my father.

Silently I slipped back down the hall a small ways and walked right back to the eat-in kitchen. This time I actually went in. Still in my night gown I burst into the room and pranced around barefooted. It was nothing more than a game of pretend to hide the cold hollowness that filled my heart. I skipped over to my mother and hugged her around her middle, my face buried in her starch white apron that crinkled crisply around my cheek.

"Someone's excited," My father said with a grin, his eyes not matching his dreary Chakra signature. I still did not understand how or why and I doubt I ever shall.

"Why would she not be, Kyou? It's the day she becomes a Kunoichi," Tobirama Oji-san grinned as he reached behind him to ruffle my hair. I pouted as childlike as I could muster and stuck out my tongue at the albino man. "Well, if you are going to be like that then I suppose I can postpone things for… Oh, a week or two?" His deep chuckle filled the air as I pulled a horrified expression and uttered a weak, devastated cry.

"Stop teasing the poor child," my grandmother chastised as she smacked his hand with her beloved chopsticks. The younger elder pulled his hand away whimpering about how his brother had married a dictator. "Tsunade, you really might want to consider eating on the way there. You are not even dressed yet, child! Though, I suppose it cannot be helped, being as keyed up as you are… Still up to your room with you or you do not eat at all."

"Yes ma'am!" I said before I sprinted for my room, catching the beginning of yet another argument between the two equally stubborn women. Though I hardly head any of it I knew who would win and it was certainly not going to be my mother.

"Excuse me, Mito?" My mother's voice was dangerous and filled with as much killing intent as any Shinobi despite her civilian status. "She is _my_ daughter not yours! And I-"

"Should respect the lady of the household. You-"

I didn't stop. I kept up the steady and rapid pace, wishing I could go faster in this child's body. _My_ body.

I all but slammed my door shut behind me as I burst into the Kami awful room. My breathing was labored and I had broken into a cold sweat as I paced the spacious quarters. I ran my small hands through my hair, my mind in a frenzy of panicked thought. _This is not happening! This is not happening! I am not a child! I am a fifty year old woman! Not proud of it but none the less I am what I am. Or I was what I was? This is so confusing!_

Realization crashed around me all at once. I sunk to the floor, my mind numb. I could no longer think. I just sat there, frightened like a small child. _I am a child…_

I don't know how long I just sat there in a slump of distress until a knock came at door. I did not reply. I could not reply. It would not have been the firm, alto voice that commanded respect and was the very definition of authority that told whoever it was to enter my bedchamber as if it were my office. No, it was my grandfather's office, for now at least, someday that office on the other side of the Hokage Monument would be mine again. The door slid open as if my silence were an invitation.

"So, it hit you early, sapling?" I stiffened at my grandfather's words. I knew what they meant but that was not it. But… How could I tell him? Or was that entire life of pain a dream? No… It was too real, too long and too detailed to be such a thing. I remained silent but he spoke once more. "A Shinobi's duty is a heavy one, Tsunade but I suppose you just realized how heavy a burden that really is. I don't want to say too much right now, most of it comes with time but I know you'll do great. You are destined for greatness, Tsunade. I just know it. It's in your heart, just don't let even the deepest of wounds slow you down. Great power comes at a greater sacrifice."

I turned my head to look at his tall, tan and proud figure that still stood in the doorway. His dark chocolate eyes met my caramel ones, there was a level of understanding shared in that few seconds of eye contact that we never had in my previous life. Was it really a past life? What… Just what was that? Just what is this? Somehow, just like I never understood why my father's Chakra did not match his personality, I don't think I'll ever know.

When had I put my hair into the high pony tail that I wore in yesteryears, I don't know. I do not remember getting dressed in that familiar yet foreign garb. The kimono's fabric was durable; the main color was teal, a purple neckline and a dark blue obi. The skirt cut well above my knees much to my mother's disapproval but the rest of the family paid it no heed. I was about to become a Kunoichi. It was expected. I do not even know if I had wrapped the bandages around my ankles or if someone had done them for me before I slipped on the blue Shinobi sandals for the first time, or at least what felt like the first time. I did not even eat as my grandmother had advised. I just left, though Mom had stopped me halfway down the long dirt path that lead to the main roads to give me a pair of armlets, _pink_ armlets.

I walked to the Academy as if in a trance. Every step I took seemed weighted. Every motion felt puppet like, stiff. The bustling village passed in a blur of color, sound and scent. The crowd parted around me, they gave the Princess of Konohagakure her room to walk toward her destiny. I wanted it. Despite all the pain and anguish that came with it I _wanted_ it. I knew nothing else but being a Kunoichi and I knew I could not be happy being anything but that.

Memories good and bad propelled me in the direction of the Academy. Each step triggered another memory that seemed to burst forth from beneath the sole of my shoe and ripple up my body with a shiver. Three faces, all round with baby fat, sprang forth above all other faces and memories. The bright green, eager and excited eyes of my childhood best friend were the first to appear in a ghostlike image, her mousey brown hair kept short and back with a headband and later her Hitai-ate. The piercing gold that belonged to none other than the traitorous bastard Orochimaru, his long black hair left to hang in his face, as if it created a curtain between him and the rest of the world. Finally, Jiraiya… Of all of them his was the most vivid. Onyx eyes alight with laughter, he goofy and later perverted grin graced his face. His shaggy white hair, softer than snow but stuck out every which way hardly framed his face.

With a few steps a came to a halt. I could see them again. Giggle with Ami at the stupid, stuck up little bitches that teased her for her large forehead and me for practically being a Shinobi princess. I could speak to Orochimaru as a friend, not an enemy who had wanted nothing more than immortality. And Jiraiya… Jiraiya…

Something swelled within me and burst like a water balloon. The energy, the excitement and exhilaration flooded around me. A sudden burst of speed and I was there. I was at the Academy. My eyes rested upon the building, which was not even as old as I was. I was a part of Konoha's first graduating class, a part of history before any of us had made our first kill or even done our first D-ranks.

I can't believe this but I'm looking forward to seeing that baka Jiraiya and creepy Orochimaru. _We will be Team Sarutobi again! Or rather we will have been Te- __Will you stop trying to make sense of this! You're not going to win!_

I took the deepest breath I had ever taken and stepped over the threshold of the Academy, of the first day of the rest of my life. I walked at an average pace through the hallowed halls, graced and blessed with the innocence of childhood. The countless times a handful of us had ditched classes. Running in the halls even after the Senseis had scolded us numerous times not too. They echoed with shrieks of laughter and conversation in the back of my subconscious. Slowly those happy sounds were replaced with shrieks of agony and orders being hollered over the battle cries of war and death... How could such-?

"Tsu? Tsu? Konoha to Tsunade! Tsu!" It was not the repetition of my name that pulled me out of the whirlwind of memories but the snapping of fingers multiple times in my face. Dully I turned to see who it was. It was Ami, bright, cheerful, slightly reckless Ami. She died when she was around forty-five. Don't know anything else or rather I don't remember anything else. Her death had left me devastated though I hid it from the world. I tried my best to forget but like all Shinobi it held to no avail. Every tragedy emerged from the core of despair and gut retching sights, somehow… Someway…

Somehow I had wound up sitting beside her in the large classroom. Dozens of boys and girls my own age filled every seat. Some bounced up and down as if on a sugar high. Others were like ducks, smooth on the surface and paddling like hell underneath. As I looked around I saw many faces that will vanish from Konoha's ranks all too soon. The path of the shinobi… is a dangerous one… but we all know the risks and are willing to except the consequences.

_Maybe you can change it this time around.__ This time around? I don't even know if this is real or a dream, or a Genjutsu! __Worth a shot.__ I have got to stop arguing to myself. __You're telling me!_

"Hey Tsunade!" Jiraiya's sudden greeting jolted me from my thoughts.

"Baka," I said evenly staring at the boy who sat in the row in front of me. He was turned around in his seat, the chair leaning on only two legs, the backrest supported by the front of my desk.

"Think we'll get put on the same team, Tsunade Hime?" He raised a white eyebrow at me, his goofy grin plastered on his face just as I had remembered it from so many decades ago. I just shrugged in response, though I knew the answer. _Yes._

"Do you want to be on the same team?" There was almost a hint of pleading in his voice with seemingly such a simple question. To Ami and anyone else who might have been listening it would have seemed as such but for me it was so much more complex than that. Unsure of what I thought I just said the first thing that sprang forth from my mind, how true the initial response was I do not know.

"I don't care. If we do get stuck on the same team then it gives me more of a chance to kick your butt. And if we don't then I don't have to put up with you!" Even I winced at my own harsh reply, though inwardly not visibly like Jiraiya, Ami and several eavesdroppers' did.

"Sheesh Tsunade you don't have to be like that!" Jiraiya said as he turned around, his seat fell back on all fours just as the class Sensei had walked in.

_Yes I do. Rejection makes a man strong as you put it-Will put it- __Ohhhhh just give it up! This is too confusing!_

I watched the generic Chunin Shunshin to the front of the room; no one so much as batted an eye or even paid him any notice. It had been the same thing every day. Walk in. Shunshin in front of the chalk board. Drone on and on with lessons and lectures while no one so much as lent an ear. Everyone in my Academy year had pretty much all been self-taught. Most of us ditched as often as we could just so we would actually learn something. Those who did not give a crap stayed in the room and slept. He never marked anyone absent or present; he never cared if we played hooky or cut class so long as we turned in our assignments and passed our tests. Which all the ditch-ies had never failed to do, myself included.

We paid him no mind as he droned on as he always did, this time with our team assignments. Many had fallen asleep while others talked and I tried to get my mind to focus on one thing anything but the snow headed boy in front of me but it was not possible. Every thought was of him and all he had done for me before. How he had been there for me through every disaster yet I pushed him away. How I was still pushing him away. Was it love? Honestly I don't know what it was but it was something. Guilt, maybe?

The silence that signaled the Sensei had finally stopped talking it was like an alarm clock had gone off. All the sleepers woke up and talkers shut up. He Shunshined away, as far as I can recollect I never saw him again after that. Rumor was back then that some kid in the class killed him for being such a bad teacher. One brave soul, Jin Jin who was to die at the age of fourteen in the Chunin exams just a few years before the Second Shinobi War broke loose, stepped forward and called out who was with who on what squad number. I tuned him out too, I knew… I knew…

"Sooo, Tsunade pretty cool that we're on the same squad, huh?" Jiraiya said as he turned around to face me once more. My heartbeat quickened at his grin, still I was unsure if it was guilt or something else that caused it to do so when I looked into his eyes.

"I couldn't care less," I replied without emotion, my arms crossed and my heart hardened to ward away the pain that I dare not let leak onto my face or into the depths of my eyes.

"Suuure, Tsunade whatever you say," His grin grew even wider as he got up and left the room, hands behind his head in a leisurely fashion. Jiraiya raised one hand in greeting at Orochimaru and some of the other boys before they filed out of the room in twos, side by side with their male counterpart on their new three-man cells.

_It's good to see you again, Jiraiya..._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

Well, I hope the first chapter of the rewrite was good... I have about three quarters of the next chapter rewritten so we will see how things go from here. For those of you who have not read the original "Tsunade's Chance" or the whole series "The Senju Chronicles" if you would like a good idea of what the rest of the story is basically going to be like go ahead to my profile page and click on "The Senju Chronicles" or (obviously) "Tsunade's Chance", I would personally suggest reading "The Senju Chronicles" to avoid the confusion of going 'Uhhh... Which story is next...?' if you decide to progress with the series. I warn you now there will be significant difference between the Recalibrated and the original series, or really it is a rough draft. Also, at some point the font alignment goes from left to center... Yeah... I originally posted all of my chapters Center Align for my stories to stand out but all it is, is a headache so I had begun to fix that, however I eventually got side tracked by rewriting so just bear with it or do the intelligent thing and copy-and-paste it to _DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN!_ Microsoft word and fix the alignment from there. Yeah... I should very well get on that... Buuuuuuuuuuut... I'm a little busy right now...

Furthermore, (okay this is the last two things!) IF YOU HAVE READ ANY FURTHER IN THE ORIGINAL SERIES and would like to suggest changes, things you want to see, what you want more detail on or just plain feel like Grammer Nazi-ing me to death... Knock yourself out! I like hearing suggestions! ^~^ Finally, I will not be posting these as individual books, just as the series collection. Too much work as it is and I don't need that to add to it. And without further ado...

Wal

Fw

P.S. for those of you who have no idea what WAL stands for...

With  
>Authorly (or Artistic)<br>Love


	2. Chapter 2

**_Book One: Tsunade's Chance- The Sound of Bells_**

**Author's Mentions:**

First off, I would like to thank the following Fanfictians for faving this revised series: BacktoCalifornia05, Blue-Huntress, Hidden94, Janeway74656kat, jjlee3449, Kaiser969 and Star Josherson! Also, special thanks to Kaiser969 and CaptainFlye for alerting! The only reason I did a shout out is because Hidden94 disabled his/her message option so I could not personally send him/her a thank you. And, "in the kingdom by the sea" thanks for your review; I hope this chapter does not disappoint you! (Oh crap I just had a Kirabi moment!) Also thanks to Soraya, Janeway, CaptainFlye, Kaiser and Star for reviewing as well!

Second, yes the 'a' is supposed to be in place of the 'o' in Fanfictian. I noticed that those of Fanfiction do not have a title like those of DeviantArt have Deviants soooo I just came up with one for us Fanfictians! See, it's already catching on! Maybe Fictians for short…

Obaa-san (grandmother)  
>Okaa-san (mother)<br>Oba-san (aunt)  
>JijiSofu/Jii/Ojii-san (grandfather)  
>Otou-san (father)<br>Oji-san (uncle)

Nii-san (brother)  
>Onii-san (older brother)<br>Ototo-san (little brother)  
>Itoko-san (cousin)<br>Nee-san (sister)  
>Onee-san (older sister)<br>Imotou-san (little sister)

-teme (bastard)  
>-ama (less insulting way of saying bitch)<br>-buso (very insulting and vulgar way of saying bitch)  
>-dobe (dead last)<br>-baka (idiot)

* * *

><p><em><strong>RIIIIIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-!<strong>_

_SHUT UP!_ One moment a screaming, incessant ringing filled the still morning air. The next…

_**CRASH! SHATTER! BREAK!**_

_Stupid alarm clock! Kami dammed, blasted, infernal, dumb invention! Waking me up at daw-_

A cold wave of realization washed over me and encased my heart in ice. An alarm clock had awoken me, not my grandfather. Could… Could it all have been nothing more than a dream? But… It was so long, so detailed. How can something like that have been a dream?

Too numb to sit up I rolled out of bed, and hit the floor with a _**thud**_. An echoing sound reverberated around within the confines of my skull from the fall as I simply lay there as I attempted to gather the courage to heave myself off the hardwood floor. I don't know how long I stared at the dust bunnies beneath my bed before I wrestled myself free from the covers. _Pink_ covers, I realized as I sat up still in a daze. I stared around the room, every aspect of it a different shade of pink. No doubt it had originally intended to be bright and cheery but it all seemed so monotonous to me. It all looked the same, one object blended into another; hardly any defining lines were present to the hazy vision early risings brought. I rose from the floor to narrowly avoid tripping over the gaudy blanket only to stand there mind blank of what to do next.

_It… Was not a dream…? _

I moved as if a Yamanaka or Nara had possessed my mind or shadow respectively. My feet moved slowly across the cold wooden floor toward the closest. With a hand that felt like it was weighted down with Chakra weights I slid the closet door open, reached up and slipped a teal kimono outfit, perfectly identical to the one I had worn the day before, off the hanger. Automatically I slipped out of the pale yellow nightgown and on went the short Kimono with its deep blue obi. My trusty metal brush glided through my tangled hair as if there were no knots at all. The finishing touch was the purple band that tied the majority of my hair, now smoother than the silk sheets that graced my grandparents' bed, away from my face. It still felt so foreign, almost wrong somehow, someway…With a deep inhale through the nose and exhale from the mouth I turned and left the room, my mind in a whirl once more.

_It's my first day as a Shinobi. Again or is it all just a- __Oh drop it already. You are not going to figure this out. Just forget anything happened before this. This is your only life now._

I knew not whether this was an older, sadder but wiser me that had lived a harsh life, whispering in my ear or just a figment of imagination, a desperate long term effect of a horrible nightmare. But what scared me the most was how I did not care what it was; it was comfort in some strange way. Like a mother would embrace her daughter and share the secrets of life with her. She was whatever she was and I did not care how or why she was there she simply was and I hope always will be just that.

"Tsunade, are you alright?" My mother's worried voice jarred me from the depths of my mind. I looked up at the woman who had birthed me, fought the most grueling pain imaginable for hours to bring me into this world, or any other world for that matter. Her sky blue eyes were not upon me but focused on the bentōshe was preparing. "You know if you do not want to be a Kunoichi you do not have to just because you were born into a Clan. I am not a Kunoichi yet I was born to the Yamanaka. I never will be either no matter how much those probing, gossiping mind readers gripe about 'wasted potential'. Ha! And they wonder why I had your grandmother seal off my Yamanaka abilities so you would not inherit that cursed _talent_, and therefore have to go through that arduous training like I was-"

"Okaa-san… I want to be a Kunoichi!" I exclaimed. I still struggled to make myself sound like a child. Innocence was still a foreign concept and one that I would forever envy. "I know I'll be good at it! I just know it! I want to fight for this Village. I want to make the Clan proud. I want to learn to be a medical Kunoichi just like Obaa-sama. I _want _this."

_And you have no room to chastise them about gossiping. __You can say that again. I mean think! I mean-__ Oh just give it up already!_

The constant _**thunk, thunk, thunk**_of the kitchen knife my mother had been using came to stop the gentle _**clack**_signified she had put it down on the cutter board. "Very well, Tsunade. When Hashirama told me it had hit you early I had… I had…" Her pearly white teeth gritted audibly against each other, grinding as if she fought back a curse, though there was really no need. It is not like anything she could possibly want to say was anything worse than what I had heard before, but… There was no way she could know that. "You excelled in every class. Your fighting aptitude is astounding. Your Chakra control is superb. Your aim with a kunai is impeccable. Your speed is great. All of these taken into account for your age, naturally…"

A weary sigh escaped her as her leaned forward on the counter using her hands for support. Her head was down as she spoke once more and her voice hoarse. "I suppose it was a fool's dream that you should chose to not take this path," Slowly my mother's hand wrapped itself around the gleaming knife's handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. "I just hope…"

With speed I never knew she possessed in this life or my last she whirled around. One moment the knife was still on the counter the next it whizzed through the air. For less than an instant I saw my reflection in the knife, but it was all I needed to see my face had paled with shock and my eyes wide in wonder and a to see my face twinge in fear. Not half a second after I had gazed mortified at myself it slipped silently into the single slot of the butcher's block. I felt myself quiver as I turned from the butcher's block across the room to gaze up at my mother in trepidation, her face darker than I had ever seen it. "I just hope you know there is a point of no return."

Stunned silent I followed her out the kitchen with my eyes while my grandmother entered. I could have sworn I saw both of them pause in mid-step for the briefest of breaths as the crossed paths. My heart went cold when my mother faded from sight and my eyes traveled to my grandmother, her face a serene understanding as her own gaze flickered from me to the butcher's block. "I see…" was all she said as she made her way over to the knife. With her right index and thumb she plucked the knife from the wooden slab. She held it out for me to see. "It was a perfect throw. Everything from the stance to the release was absolute perfect but she was slow."

My grandmother's eyes were never ending teal pools of water, absorbing me into their depths. "She was a Kunoichi, once upon a time, Tsunade, the female member of your father's squad. The other member was her brother. They all made Jonin by the age of seventeen. They were assigned to an S-rank together, a reunion mission as they are often called," I knew what that meant but I let her continue. The gravity to her voice pulled me farther into her gaze. "A reunion mission is dreaded, always dreaded. On reunion missions one of them almost always dies, those missions are so difficult that it can only be executed with years of teamwork and cooperation between the Shinobi assigned. A reunion of a Genin cell, should there be more than one left by then…"

A heavy sigh was expelled from her as she offered the knife to me; I took it not knowing what else to do. "Your uncle was killed. She fell to pieces after that. She gave it all up... She does nothing. She does not run or spar. She no longer walks with silence but like a civilian, loud, clumsy... By Shinobi standards at least… She studied them for hours, civilians. She became a civilian. She forced herself to abandon every skill she learned to become a inept civilian," I forced myself to keep my eyes locked on her face of steel, rather than my reflection in the steel knife that continuously begged me to cease eye contact with the old, battle worn woman.

"I do not have distain for your mother for giving up the lifestyle. A loss like she had experienced… Well, it is not something everyone can bear. I have distain for your mother because she does not keep her skills up in case she should ever need to defend _you_, Tsunade. Although… That knife does make me wonder," I felt as if I had been immersed in ice water rather than my grandmother's words. As she left it seemed the knife in my hand had pierced my heart with jagged elucidation. I had learned more about my own mother in a few days in this life than I had in the years I had lived with her in my past life.

I knew every family had their secrets and that mine was no exception but… How much more about my family could have been hidden from me? Tucked away within the very walls of this mansion? For decades, possibly longer, never to be found, revealed or exposed to the light?

The walk to the Memorial Stone passed in a blur of pastel color and muted sound. If it had been anyone else they would have bumped into people left and right but I was not most people. I was the Princess of the Senju Clan and Leaf Village. Granddaughter to two of the most powerful Shinobi in the country and world, even if my father was just your average Jonin, never had he gained any personal fame. He had none of the Clan's Kekkei Genkai such as our monstrous strength or the Mokuton. Fire and Earth was all he had in his arsenal, but he could not combine them to make lava, an average marksman with kunai and shuriken. He had nothing that made him stand out from the never ending green, blue, brown and black of flak jackets, standard Shinobi pants and your most common hair colors. But that was just the way he liked it for some reason. He never wanted fame.

'A face in the crowd,' he had once told me, 'was safer than a king surrounded by a thousand guards.' I never understood that until I obtained fame myself. Despite all the strength and power I had obtained before, I felt so vulnerable. Opponents both strong and weak tried to claim my life; none prevailed in their hunts, though many tried and some even sacrificed themselves asleep to keep the heir of the Senju Clan alive. But none the less there were points in time where I felt so helpless and lost that it made me wonder in the fame was worth it.

When at long last I had reached what many called 'the grave site' it felt like my head and heart were heavier than the Stone itself. I moved as if I were possessed until I stood before the wretched rock that dared to gleam in the sunlight while over a hundred names were carved into it. Over one hundred names of people that would never walk the surface of the Earth again. Only one Great War had passed and already the Stone seemed to have tripled its weight. In truth it had lost physical mass with every name engraved but whatever it had lost it gained so much with the anguish of the people those names left behind.

Was my named carved into the Stone somewhere in time and space? Who cried over Senju Tsunade, the Leaf's Eternally Young Grandmother? Was there anyone left to cry? Why was I not walking into some light being met by my friends, family and teammates? Why was I not being rushed to by Chiyo so the two of us could start our famed arguments over this or that while being lit up like the skies on a crystal clear night? Why was I not being glomped by my little brother, a pair of matching necklaces gracing our torsos? Why was I not punching Jiraiya for something I should have punched for in our living lives, not the young Jiraiya that I had just met the day before but the older, more perverted Jiraiya that had held me when my brother died? _Why…? Why? WHY?_

The only answer I received for my never ending stream of agonizing questions was the objective moans and groans that were so familiar yet alien to my memory. I had not heard nor had I felt my small fist collide with the trunk of old oak. I did not remember moving from my spot before the Stone, in contrary I felt as if I were still rooted to the spot… But I was not. Splinters flew in all directions and leaves had abandoned their mother to float through the air only to face certain death within a few days.

"Tsunade-chan!" The moment I had heard Jiraiya's young and astounded voice form behind me my body felt as if it were weighted with stones and air ceased to pass through my body. My motions were identical to one of Chiyo's puppets; stiff yet fluent all at once as I slowly turned to face the white haired child who would someday claim the title of the Toad Sanin. His eye of obsidian gleamed with wonder as they flickered from the tree I had sentenced to death to me, in my immature body; completely unaware I was my physical age nearly ten times over. "How did you do that?"

"I-Uh-Um. Well, you see- I mean…" I stuttered endlessly, my panic increased the moment Jiraiya tilted his shaggy head to the side, a wide goofy grin that would one day turn perverted slipped across his face. "Please don't tell anyone!"

_Why did you just beg Jiraiya? Of all people!__ I don't know I panicked! __You're Tsunade! The Slug Princess of the Leaf! And you were and will be the Godiame Hokage, and the best dam medic in the world! YOU- DON'T - BEG!_

"Why don't you want anyone to know about that? That was amazing! I mean just think of how much stronger you _will_ be someday! Of course I'm gonna tell our Sensei!" Jiraiya rambled on like all young children do. Shinobi or not they lacked the experience to communicate properly.

I wound up to punch him out of sheer annoyance before I remembered what I had done to that seventy year old oak tree. His mouth glued shut and his eyes became rounder than they had been if that was even remotely possible. Out of fear words began to stumble out my mouth once more. "I- just d-don't tell okay," The fear was not that he would tell anyone but the fact of what I could do at my current strength to his own immature body. Before his body could always take my punches as he became stronger as I did but now…

Jiraiya raised his hands defensively and backed away a step or two before he spoke with a voice that made the leaves that trembled in the breeze envious that they could not quiver as much. "Okay! Okay! I won't tell! If…"

Though my exterior was hard, steely and cold on the inside I was soft and warm yet the there was a coldness over my heart that only sorrow could bring. "If…?" _Here we go._

"If you go on a date with me," Jiraiya said slyly with his chin in his hand, his eyebrows waggled teasingly. His eyes squinted at me as if he thought himself so clever that only he could come up with such a seemingly fair deal. I shot him a death glare as my response though I was not sure if that was really what I wanted to do or should have done. He backed off with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. "You'll say yes eventually, Tsunade-hime."

"Ummm… Let me think on that for a second… No! Never gonna happen, baka," I snapped just as Orochimaru wandered, onto the training grounds. He glanced at us with no emotion what so ever before he made his way toward the Memorial Stone, seeming so lost in every way but the physical sense. Jiraiya and I stared back far longer than he had; Orochimaru fell to his knees before his parents' epitaph. Jiraiya and I knew what had happened. The memory was so fresh in both of our minds, for Jiraiya it had happened only yesterday but for me it was reliving a nightmare for the thousandth time. I fought to keep my eyes open, to fight what I would rather forget, to experience it again but it was all in vain. My eyelids defeated my will.

I sat in my seat still, knowing it would be the last time. I reminisced on every detail I could remember from forty or so years ago. We had all been so innocent, so naïve, so ready to take on the world. To protect our home we were willing to give it all but none of us had known just what that had meant. From my seat in the spacious classroom I remembered it all so clearly, my eyelids had won the battle just as they had so many nights when liquor failed to plunge me into a dreamless siesta for it never worked long.

Jiraiya raised one hand in greeting at Orochimaru while his other hand remained behind his head in a leisurely fashion. They and all the other boys filed out of the room in twos, side by side with their male counterpart on their new three-man cells. The girls had remained behind to groan, moan or twitter and brag about whom they had been assigned to babysit for the rest of their lives, but for the rest of whose lives was uncertain and we were ignorant to it all. Would it be for the rest of our own lives, would we die before our male counterparts, or would we be forced to outlive them as was the fate of most Kunoichi?

I remained in my chair, gazing out the window. I waited. It came.

A salvo of denial and desperation filled the warm January air. A shout of pure pain and agony had silenced the palaver of young girls. A fist of iron clutched my torso, ceasing breathing and beat. Orochimaru, in a white and black blur, raced past the window of the classroom window. As he vanished from sight tears welled in my eyes, how could I have missed seeing so much pain in that boy who would eventually become twisted and corrupted with power's lust?

_The same way everyone else did. They did not wish to see more than they had to. I-We- __Oh just forget it. The whole world was ignorant to how deep the pain was in that boy. We all refused to see. Ignorance is bliss… Or so we all thought._

The memory replayed over and over again in my mind, it completely dictated my conscious. The illusion that only a few moments had past was shattered when yet another incessant ringing jarred me from my daymare just as it had this morning. A _**crunch!**_ coerced my eyes open to the bleary vision of a crushed alarm clock beneath my bawled fist. As I raised my hand from the wreckage blood dripped from a fresh wound inflicted upon me by the shrapnel of the small, metal object that now lay in shambles before the Memorial Stone. Red beads trickled from the palm of my hand not an instant after I realized the first injury. I opened my hand, within it a tiny, dinged up brass bell.

Hardly aware of myself my eyes traveled in a slow, smooth arch from the destroyed clock, to the dented bell and back again. Confused, I turned to look for the counterparts of my team. There they stood shock still, eyes wide._ What…?_

"Ts-Tsunade-san…" Sarutobi Sensei struggled to maintain a calm composure as he raised a closed hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. "Tsunade-san, Orochimaru-san, well done. You two can eat but Jiraiya-san…" Sarutobi Sensei towered over Jiraiya, shadow's fell across his face and Genjutsu background of fire blazed behind him, giving him the appearance of a demon. Faster than the eye could see the future Sandaime Hokage took hold of the snow headed boy's shoulder. "You don't!"

I gave the spectacle before me a tilt of the head, a raise of an eyebrow and a quick double blink. It was quite a sight to see the God of Shinobi drag a kicking and screaming six-year-old-pervert-to-be over to the trio of logs that had been there for Kami knows how many decades. Held aloft in the air by Sarutobi Sensei's hand, Jiraiya thrashed about like a fish on the end of a line, waiting to have the hook pulled from its mouth. Carelessly, the perverted brunette threw the protesting future super pervert into the center post with a solid _**slam!**_ Jiraiya looked just as bitter as I remembered while Sensei pulled a coil of rope from Kami knows where and tied him to the post with a Shinobi's Death Knot. I turned away from the scene before me as Sarutobi Sensei lectured his captive audience, population Jiraiya, about something or another.

_Ughlth… The Shinobi's Death Knot… That was a bitch to learn… Well, good luck learning that bastard thing again!__ What? You mean you are just going to-! Oh, very funny… __Hehe. Two minds, one body, shared memories, kid.__ No one ever told me I could be such a- __Well, no dip genius. If anyone had they would have-__ Yeah, yeah I get it already!_

I scanned the clearing for the bentō my mother had half prepared before she had walked away from me, away from her past, who she was… The numb memory from just a few hours ago began in a frame by frame of the large kitchen knife slicing some heavenly aroma instantaneously zipped through every aspect until I saw myself walking out of the kitchen, my mind full and heavy, my hands empty and akimbo to my thighs. The flicker of a self-composed image of a hazy halo of light encompassing the mouthwatering bentō that sat on the counter was a sight that would make an Akimichi cry and my stomach growl with yearning as it scolded me for leaving such a precious entity behind.

The present crashed around me: I was overcome by the maelstrom of colors and bombardment of sounds. Before I had even opened my eyes to the world around me, the colors became more vivid and vibrant than nature could possibly provide. The sky's electric blue illusion surrounded me in an endless whirlpool as it laced with the forest's neon greens and rich browns that danced around me in an erratic craze. The birds' song that had merged with the call of the gentle, early spring breeze became an inundation of mercurial sonance that sibilated in my consciousness. My head lolled to one side while my right hand rose into a Ram seal. A breath left my body. I whispered, "Shunshin..."

For the briefest flash of time I was deprived of the gas of life commonly known as oxygen and an unconceivable amount of pressure exerted itself upon my small body. I warred with the haze that threatened to misdirect me from my destination; howbeit it seemed as if I were jostled through a confined space not unlike Chakra enhanced spitball aimed at the occipital of a Chunin Sensei mid-lecture. My eyelashes jabbed the surrounding skin as it folded and bunched owed to the fact that my eyelids were compressed shut to darkness. The sound of firecrackers echoed around in my head as my ears popped from lack of physical acclimatization to the Body Flicker's effects.

Just as the instantaneous and seemingly endless torture had arrived it vanished. The pressure was replaced with the cracking pain of my own occipital as I was slammed to the hardwood floor, spread-eagle. My ears rang like an explosion tag had just blazed to life within ten feet of m and my body ached just as much so. With nothing but sheer willpower and stubbornness I raised myself into a sitting position; my head lolled from side to side causing my brain to rattle around in its encasing of membrane and bone.

As I rose from the cherry wood floorboards I realized the kitchen was deserted, void of all life but my own. My large child eyes continuously dilated as an eerie chill settled down around me like a morning mist. Shadows seemed to spring forth from every nook, corner and cranny as my gaze moved around the room, as mechanical as a puppet under the control of a novice puppeteer of Sunagakure No Sato. I trembled like a leaf in the wind as I reached for the black bentō with the tips of my fingers from the sheer macabre. The creaks and moans of the primarily wood constructed mansion that surfaced from silence of solitude made me whip around, the bentō clutched to my flat chest. The spicket leaked crystalline tears of aqua pura, its incessant _**drip, drip, drip**_ pulled me back in time; or is it simply memory of what never was?

Water pure, clean, clean, cool and untainted by the tang salt of sweat; fell upon the crest of the Hidden Leaf Village, lodged deep in the crevasse of metal. Blood painted the grass in sporadic smears and globules as if the verdure were canvas that had awaited the artist's strokes of incitement but instead received a child's temper tantrum of rage and revenge. Anguished screams for one's mother the trill words shrieked and swirled with the wind as it howled and cut through our armor like a freshly calibrated kunai through soft butter.

Battle cries split the air in two, some vowed with revenge with anguish pitching their voices high and cold, others hoarse and tired as they begged to bet let alone, to allow them to sleep… Sparks leapt from kunai as they locked in a hateful and murderous form of handshake, known to all Shinobi from the time of their first battle for their lives. Words of a boast of strength and explanation of techniques, words of surrender, words of mercy are spoken, all synonyms of the same concept; _deception_.

He approached in a run, katana in hand. _**Tum-tump. **_Mud erupted from below his fallen foot. _**Tum-thump. **_The battery, brown liquid-solid crashed around the crimson, viridian and sorrel floor of the forest's clearing. _**Tum-thump. **_A streak of grey, a flash of armor, a _**chink!**_ of two katana, a _**splash**_ in the muck, more blood, the life of an elder for the life of the heir, another sacrifice. There is no longer the beating of my heart within my ears, only the sounds of battle.

I look down at the two bodies before me, one that of a Senju and the other is the body of a Hantaa, a hunter. The latter's face was forever frozen in a state of enraged shock, his body lay crumpled, prone to the ground, another ingrediant to the grotesque stew that would continue to be churned by the tides of combat and poudinig of rain, his blood leaked from a neat score of his jugular.

The elder… How I knew her face well. In my darkest hour of my teenage life she had led the opposition against me. She, who had contempt for all new and young life, gave her life for my own when I stood frozen, mortified by the acts of slaughter. Her brown eyes, pale from a blindness that she had been slowly succumbing to with age, held my gaze. While my stare was blank, as emotionless as a cerial killer's, hers was pleading, she begged me to come down to her. I, the one she had wronged most in this world, was the one she wanted to entrust her final words too, but was there ever a choice?

Dusk bloomed, brilliant bouts of red burst through the thinned clouds of grey pain, a luminescent haze. The mottled the sky reflected its clarit light upon , making the daubs of blood incomprehendable from any other color in the once lush and lively landscape that had been teaming with life but twelve hours ago. Now it simply overflowed with mangled carcasses, human and animal alike, some summons, others nin-ken or other Shinobi trained beasts. Remains of flora lay scattered and trampled, stems bent in an unnatural way, a broken bone, condemed for simply being.

Dawn, it seemed, crept upon us before sun had even completely sunken on the horizon. The few survivors adverted their eyes from the golden light and to the west as the sun edged its way into our lives once more. The sunrise is often used as a metaphore of hope and enlightenment, that day all it was a was a symbol or dread and morning. The toll of the bloodbath would be counted. How many both sides, Hantaa and Senju alike, had lost. How many fathers would burry their sons? How many mothers would engrave an etipaph for their daughters? Which of my cousins would I morn for? No one wanted these answers, but the enevitable came when at last the mild, kaleidoscopic light gave way to the blazing light of day…

In the time before my awakening in this new life, the fate of the Senju Clan was forgotten with time. Perhaps the record was simply stowed away to be lost, a section of history that would never be known less someone should speak of it. But who would? What person would dare dream of declaring the truth of the Senju Clan's demise? What fool would announce to the world that the Senju Clan, of one hundred and twenty six strong had marched to their deaths for a matter of pride and honor? What thoughtless buffoon would cry out in the streets that the all powerful Senju's had been all but completely eradicated by a Clan of cannibalistic, sadistic barbarians known as the Hantaa? Could there ever be someone so stupid as to shout from the rooftops that there was only seven of the well over a hundred Shinobi that had waltzed into a brawl with such dangerous opponents so carelessly? Not if they valued their lives they did not.

My grandfather, my grandmother, my granduncle, one other elder, two distant cousins and I were all that survived that battle. Nawaki-kun, too young yet to fight had been left at home in the care of the sole remaining member of the Utatane Clan; there were no others his age. Before the near massacre a plague had swept through the compound, the unknown pathogen claimed anyone whose Chakra coils were still hardening, molding to their bodies, their spirits. My brother was a miracle to the Clan, a symbol of hope. In time Sofui-sama, Oji-san, one cousin and Nawaki-kun were all too claimed by war. My grandmother by age and the resealing of the Nine Tailed Demon into that energetic redhead, the Bloody Habanera, the other cousin by suicide a mere few months after the genocide. As far as the world knew, I alone remained, the Last Senju, but even I too eventually became a victim of war…

Droplets of unsalted tears. Blood. Screams. Fierce cries. Kunai clash. Jutsu fly. Lies told. Another opponent. Another sacrifice. Another face. Another corpse. Or two... Dying words left unfinished. Another dusk. Another dawn. Death. It's _all the same… It's all war…_

Nothing could stop the memories for simply being so yet that was all they were, memories. Figments of a distant past that may, may have or may not even exist or existed. The world I had known, a canvas marred with blood, was far behind me either way. I do not know or understand why I was suddenly presented with a new realm, a life yet to be ventured and lived. As my thoughts on what was truly happening progressed the more I began to realize the big picture of it all, rather than the minuscule details, too small and possibly too insignificant to matter and comprehend. I had been granted what so many dreamed of, what they craved or what some simply wondered. The dimension or past life I had lived hardly mattered. It was all simply memory, nothing more, nothing less.

_How different will my life be now? In this world, this new life? With this second chance?__ I think the real question is-__Shunshin...__- How much of a difference can __**you**__ make?_

The entire experience was a mystery enfolded in enigma boxed in a conundrum. The telepathic thoughts of my elder self floated in my mind as the interior of the Senju Mansion blurred into smears of earthy colors one moment then the next it was all far behind me. My eyes remained open to the indistinct world around me, each color twined with another, every object horizontally elongated. As is customary with the venerated Shunshin No Jutsu, a mild headache pulsated across my forehead where my violet Yin Seal would someday be. The suffocating pressure that had been exerted upon me previous still remained but lessened by far, my breathing sounded asthmatic, my windpipe felt as if someone had it within their ironclad grasp but I could still breathe.

I closed my eyes for a moment, simply to allow the mysterious sensation to enfold itself around me. Despite some drawbacks to this vital Jutsu there had always been something relaxing about the Body Flicker that could not be explained in any way possible but the fact that it gave the illusion that the world around me seemed to be what was moving, not myself. The term 'walking on air' had been actualized from the Shunshin, it never seemed like your feet touched the ground. When accustomed to Flickering you felt weightless, like there is not a care in the world.

There was a debate as old as the Jutsu itself over which was the best portion: the Jutsu and its effects of sheer headache inducing bliss or the reactions of the unsuspecting as you pop out of nowhere in or onto the oddest of places. The sheer thought of the reactions of my chibi-fied teammates could possibly pull as more than enough for the gears in my head to groan to life as I began me to begin to plot my entrance…

Let's see here… I could stand on top of the post, arms folded across my chest with the bentō dangling from my hand by its checked white and _pink_ cloth wrapping. Standing with most of my weight on one leg would give an appearance of superiority and smugness, projecting the fact that I could _'already'_ Shunshin. How it would irritate Orochimaru if I were to pull such a feat and rub it in with such a stance. It would serve that Hebi-teme right for all the grief he put Jiraiya and I through for so many decades. But… He has not done that yet here in this timeline and now, if given the chance, he may never…

_Well, that idea's scratched now isn't it?__ I would have to say so._

I could always land on the log in a lotus position… One foot placed on top of the opposite thigh with sole facing upward, heel close to the abdomen. The other foot is then placed on the opposite thigh in a symmetrical with my knees touching the wooden surface flaunting my flexibility. My head in hand, one elbow resting on my knee while my other arm is draped loungingly over my folded lower extremities. My bento resting on top of my crossed legs in between my heals… Then again that would be kind of gross… My the bottoms of my dirt dusted sandals touching my lunch, even if it is wrapped, it's still unsanitary…

_Curse me knowing way too much about germs… __Idea two… Scrapped.__ Crap… __Sheesh, kid, you just can't make up your mind can you?__ It's your mind too ya know! __Oh stop arguing with yourself and just think of another pose? You sound crazy arguing with yourself!__ I'm not even going to justify that with a response…_

Maybe if I were sitting on top of the log, legs dangling over the edge, bento in my lap, hands out behind me supporting my weight... Or perhaps, I should lie on my stomach, head in my hands or resting on my forearms, bento in front of her, her legs in the air kicking back and forth... As I pondered my options I closed my eyes for what felt like a decent five minutes but in reality was but a mere few seconds or so.

_Somehow, those just don't feel right at all…__ What do you mean? They sound cute… __Yeah cute, sure. But it's a little too cute.__ But wouldn't the cutesiness of it all throw those two idiots for a loop? __Hmm… I see your point...__So many possibilities to such a simple task but I only have one opportunity to get this right... __So much trouble just to screw with those two…__ One winner…__This is little bit of an over kill don't you think?__ But whi-?_

_**THOMP!**_

…

….

…..

...

….

…..

_What the…? __Hell…?_

Slowly the child body I was entrapped in regained feeling; almost as if there was a gel that was oozing its way down my extremities it banished the numbness to the farthest reaches of my mind. With cloudy mind I began to realize I was no longer in motion, but halted and pressed up against something firm yet soft. The Shinobi blue sandals were steadfastly planted on the ground, my toes tickled by blades of grass. The aches of various boney prominences crept into being. A pressure built in my chest and head as I became aware I was not breathing but the only result of any effort to take in the gas of life was a muffle "Mmph…!" My eyelids flittered in a spastic rhythm for a heartbeat's time before I could coax them open to the dying light of day.

The sight that greeted my eyes dilated my pupils the size of olives and seemed to silence the world around me. My undeveloped chest ran cold even as the beating of my own heart quickened and the color drained from my cheeks. My own orbs of honey met twin pools of fathomless obsidian dominated by pupils darker than night without the moon or stars. For what seemed to be an eternity neither set of oribitals averted their gaze from the other until at long last the reality of what happened hit me like lighting through the very depths of the mind. Jiraiya… I… I was kissing _**Jiraiya!**_

Panic swept my body in the form of a frigid death shroud; far surpassing an equivalency to being thrust below the surface of a lake in the northern most regions of the Land of Iron. I stumbled backwards, tripping over stone that protruding from the soft earth and landing with a firm and unavoidable _**thump**_. My bentō flung from my hand and by the sound of it the wrapping had come undone, the lid flung off to Kami knows where, already crushed from being pressed up against… It was too horrible to even think his name let alone acknowledge what had just happened.

I stared up in horror at the chibi version of the would-be infamous Jiraiya, the Legendary Super Pervert. His face frozen in a peaceful, shocked expression, eyebrows arched high and lips hardly left their half open circle from the… A burning sensation filled my throat as I hardly held down the searing stomach acid as my white haired teammate's head fell into a cocked position. My respirations quicken and all I could hear was the thumping of my own heart.

The corners of his lips twitched. His eyebrow fell downward into an almost cunning arrangement. Those orbs of liquid night glistened as if a thousand stars had just ignited. The grin… That perverted, gleeful grin spread across his face like melted butter as he came to the very realization of what just occurred that I had not moments after it happened. He opened his mouth to speak a torrent of jubilation of how he "_knew_"… But they were never spoken.

One moment I sat on the ground my arms supporting me. The next, I stood, arm extended, fist gripped around something soft and malleable. Everything I saw was red, whether with embarrassment or rage I could not be certain but Jiraiya's face was all that remained clear. That stupid expression that clearly said '_derp'_ and nothing else froze as such with a single onigiri stuffed halfway into his mouth.

I stepped away my entire body quivering as I pointed a finger at the stunned little perv. "If you… Ever… And I mean _ever_ mention this incident again… You… You…" I never finished or even knew what the threat would be but whatever I could have thought of… I think it was best off that no one, including myself, ever knew.


	3. The Letter

Dear Readers,

For months, hell, over a year now, this account has been asleep. Assaults by writers block and uncertainty of where to go with many of my stories was the main causes of this. It is with a heavy heart that I say from this moment onward 'Freewolf17' will no longer be updating her works onto . Rather, she has decided that it is time to leave behind this account feeling that it is like the footprints one leaves behind them on a journey. It began seeming so bright; with every paragraph that was churned out it seemed to have been crafted in the most delicate gold. I look back now in reflection and see the exposition of the expedition for what it really was. It was struggle, it was exhilarating, it was enlightening, it was this and that and so much more.

However, the past began uphill, blinded with arrogance. Every footfall coated my feet with mud and pricked them with lay hidden beneath the surface. I read the writing in nostalgia but it soon settled in at disappointment at how foolish I was when everything started. I see what I can do now and what I have evolved into. Yes, this accounted did glow with the promise that I could become a great writer and that moon has eclipsed into darkness. Now, a new era of my passage will begin and many old tales I have penned will have a new chance under a new name: Mabushii Mikazuki, a shinning new moon.

Sincerely,

And for the last time With Authorly Love,

Freewolf17


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